


Lost

by tjmystic



Series: Pre-Season 3 Ficathon [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Aggression, F/M, Rough Sex, Seemingly Dub-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode 2x02:  After losing Bae again, Rumple takes out his frustrations and fears on Belle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

Lost   
rufeepeach prompted: he makes her cum so many times that she has to beg for him to stop

Rating: NC-17

Author’s Note: … yeah, I feel like I should be offering up an apology here rather than an actual author’s note. This prompt should’ve inspired just straight up smut, not… this. Whatever this is. So… yeah. I’ma just let you carry on then. Happy birthday, Ru!

 

It was all a blur. All of it. He couldn’t recall a single second since Prince Charming came into his shop to tell him about the town line. One moment, he was surrounded by broken glass and trinkets, the next he was facing his front door, his cane leant blankly at his side.

He’d lost his son. Again.

How had he not planned for this? How he had he never considered that, even if he brought magic to the town, its boundaries might remain in place? He’d accounted for literally everything – how had this one detail escaped him? Of course the curse would be too strong to simply allow people safe passage out. Magic meant to rip people of their happy endings wouldn’t just give them free reign to escape.

He shook his head wildly, hair flying into his eyes as he stumbled into the hall. He needed a distraction. Anything, anything at all to keep the nightmares away. He needed… he needed…

“Oh good, you’re home!” Belle chirped from the kitchen. “I’m making a cake for us. I finally worked out the oven!”

Gold’s eyelids stuttered at her voice. Belle. Belle was here – not a dream, not a fantasy, but truly here. And just when he needed her most. He should’ve thought of her to begin with. 

He toed off his shoes and headed towards her faster than he had any right to with his limp. 

It wasn’t hard to see her once he reached the archway between the dining area and the parlor, dancing in his robe as she continued to stir at her bowl. Gold sighed in relief. Had she been turned to greet him, had he been subjected to her eyes, he would’ve broken down. Questions would’ve been asked, her constant love and concern for hi somehow outweighing all he’d put her through. He’d have to talk. He’d have to think. About his failures, his losses, and the fact that three-hundred-years of love and regret weren’t enough to bring Bae home.

Thinking was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to be obliviated.

Shaking, he bent down to remove his socks and belt. 

During the last few days, their first days together in nearly thirty years, he’d been nothing but careful with his darling Belle. Not as careful as he’d hoped, perhaps – they were both too desperate, too in love, too sorry, to wait any longer for a night together. But he’d been soft, and gentle, and caring in every effort to make up for his impatience. He’d tried with his every iota to cling to his sanity lest he be too rough. Even now, after touching her more times than he’d ever believed possible, he still feared that. If he gave in and just felt, abandoned what little conscience he had and did what he wanted instead… if he ended up hurting her out of his own pain…

Belle scraped the bowl viciously, sending a glob of cake batter onto her hand. She didn’t reach for a towel, nor the hem of his bathrobe to wipe it onto. She brought it to her mouth, darted out her tongue, and licked her skin clean. The moan that followed had him harder than iron in his pants.

His cane fell to the floor as he staggered towards her. He couldn’t wait. It never even crossed his mind to try. Not when she was sucking cake batter off her fingers and swaying about in his robe. He needed her now.

She turned her head, not enough to see him but enough for him to watch her petal pink mouth. “What would you like for supper?” she called, obviously not knowing he stood just behind her. 

He shucked off his tie. “You.”

Her body jerked to hear him so close, spinning around to face him fully. He only gave her a moment to take in his dilated pupils, his wrecked hair and discarded clothes, before backing her into the fridge and sealing his mouth tight against hers. 

“Rum?” she mumbled. “Rum, what -?”

“Don’t,” he panted, silencing her with a wipe of his tongue along her teeth. She trembled, a full-body shake that made her knees wobble into his, and his arms instantly wrapped about her to keep her from falling, one under her pretty arse and the other painting the side of her tits. “Don’t wanna talk. Just want you.” 

He wasn’t sure if the look in her eyes was lust or confusion, but her breath hitched, her breasts itching the front of his shirt, and that was all he needed to dive in again, lips slanted helplessly over hers. 

“Thank you,” he murmured into her mouth. 

She nodded against him, allowing him to slide against the roof of her mouth, and if he wasn’t already gone, that would’ve put him there. With a groan, he shoved her away from the wall, not even giving her the time to gasp before tearing his hands from her body and ripping the robe off her in one solid motion. She was bare beneath it, her naked skin sticking tightly to what remained of his suit, and the growl that tore through him sounded more animal than human. She was beautiful, nude, and, judging by her increasing moans, wanting for him. 

And it still wasn’t enough to banish the hatred he felt towards himself. 

Violently, he turned her about on the floor, keeping one hand solid on her stomach to keep her from falling while the other tore viciously at her breast. Her nipples were already hard from her surprise disrobing, and he plucked one roughly between his fingers. She mewled at the touch, her already dizzy feet spinning out from under her, and he gripped her tight about her waist and her breast in response. He could feel her breath quicken at his actions, her heart thudding rapidly against his – he couldn’t resist humping his cock into her arse at the same tempo. But still he saw images of Bae falling through the portal, of letting his son’s hand go, condemning him to a world where no one knew him. 

His hand jerked down from her pebbled nipple to her slit, working at her until the first traces of her arousal soaked his skin. Foreplay was over – he needed something more to dull the memories. 

Not even caring about his mangled foot, he hauled his Belle against the table, smashing her hips and his fingers on the edge. She hissed at the touch, bending back immediately at the unpleasant sensation, but his hand was on the small of her back, pushing her down even as his other hand worked her into a frenzy. 

“No no, bend over,” he growled. “And spread your legs.”

He felt her little gasp all the way down his spine. But that was all he noticed, for, the moment she complied, he was pulling his sticky fingers out from under her and positioning himself at her entrance. She was wet enough for him that it wouldn’t hurt, and her moans let him know she was alright, and that was really all he needed to know before slamming into her with one thrust. 

Belle rocked up on her toes at the force of him, a strangled cry catching on her lips. It was erotic, beautiful, the best noise she’d ever made, and all he could think of were his own strangled cries as he dug through the dirt for his boy’s hand. 

He clamped his eyes shut, pulling his cock slowly from her taut, constricting walls, and pumped her again.

“Rumple!” she howled, her nails digging harshly through the wood. “Oh Rumple, please!” 

His lips worked a trail from her neck to her ear. “What d’you want, Belle?” He stroked himself against her slit, catching her sopping wet clit with the very head of him, and, for a moment, he was distracted by how good it felt to be almost inside her. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start, and he was desperate. “Tell me what it is you want.” 

Her pussy canted backwards, riding along his length, and his pulse all but flopped when she turned to him and whimpered. Yes, this was what he needed. 

She licked her lips and nodded. “I need you in me. Please.” 

That was all the permission he needed.

Both hands now braced on her waist, Gold pressed his front flush against her arse, and plundered his sweet Belle’s cunt. 

There was pain, as her skull connected with his chin, her body rearing back like a cobra in a silent scream as he forced his way inside. More than that, though, there was pleasure, a wonderful, numbing sort of ecstasy that filled his bones and made his balls draw tight against the seam of his arse. He dropped his face and pressed a sloppy, gracious kiss to Belle’s hair – this might work after all.

Good foot sliding across the tile, he stroked himself out of her again, catching the very tip of him in her succulent grip. He groaned at the sensation, instantly leaving her waist for her nipple to pinch it in thanks, and then he was spurring forward again, in and out, in and out like a mad man. Belle heaved with every thrust, her legs spread wider than they’d ever been for him before, and he couldn’t resist gyrating against her so that her clit pressed against the table corner. 

Her fingernails scraped the surface.

“RUMPLE!”

Belle’s walls crashed on him, rippling like an inferno through his cock as she exploded around him. His world spun on its axis, centering only on his true love’s screaming his name as she came once, twice, in one go. She fluttered all the way down to his balls when he brushed forward, and her spine went tense as the rest of her broke. She was heaven.

And it still wasn’t enough. He could feel her – fuck but could he feel her – but it didn’t encompass him fully enough. It didn’t drown the world. It didn’t bring him home. 

The break he’d intended to give her after she came apart was crushed, replaced instead by his roving hands before her mound. She spasmed at the touch, even if it was just his fingers and he wasn’t even touching her clit, but, while the thrill of her pleasure prickled through the very ends of her hair, he focused more on the task at hand. The task in hand. 

Cautious of how slippery she was, Gold folded his hand on her mons and pushed, hoping for an extra ounce of friction, just something that would drag her in deeper. It didn’t work, but her slick heat had started clenching him again, and he knew the pressure would take her down all over with the barest flick of his wrist. He gave in and stroked that spot, barely rimming it with his thumb, and returned to filling her with his cock while she floated to that high all over again.

He chased her, viciously, teeth clamped on her neck, hands pushing hard on her mons, cock working furiously inside her. But the position wasn’t working, no matter how hard he tried. He needed to be deeper, closer, in order for the nightmares to go away. He had to be completely buried, and his body just wasn’t letting him do that. 

He dragged her sideways across the wood, scooping her legs so he could see her pretty cunt. She was drenched now, beads of his precum intermingled with her own orgasm, and her lips looked almost cherry red in this light. It could be blood. Like the blood his son doubtlessly shed without anyone to protect him.

Gold roared, all but ripping out his hair as he mounted her again. Belle’s eyes were fluttering, her arms falling lax about his neck, but he ignored it in favor of hitching her legs above his shoulders. When he slid in this time, he could feel himself brushing against her center, deeper than he’d ever been inside her before, and his head spun. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” he panted senselessly, bucking her like a horse as he bent his teeth into her breast. Her cunt was trembling for him again already, her clit throbbing against the base of him as he rolled his balls against her, and he wondered if she were cumming again or if he was just feeling the aftershocks. 

He squeezed her nipple in his lips, tugging and roughing it with his tongue. The words, “I love you,” fell easily from him when she was so soft beneath him.

“Please,” Belle whimpered. “Please, please…”

Her thighs spasmed insanely, as if her muscles had turned completely into jello. He nuzzled into her neck, pounding harder and faster in hopes that he could make her say it again, to finish the thought. That was all he wanted, all he needed to be free. 

“Too much, Rum. Please stop.”

The words reached his mind in a haze, a vague ripple down his spine, but his hips stopped pistoning all the same. He immediately regretted it, needing to be deep inside her body to get rid of the pain. If she wasn’t writhing underneath him, if he wasn’t blind with pleasure, than he’d remember how his boy was still lost and how much he’d continued to fail.

“Belle, please,” he begged, swiping her nipple into his mouth in hopes of swaying her. “I need you. I need to be in you.”

When he lifted his eyes, though, she was still shaking her head. And while that didn’t give him pause, the sight of her tears, mingled with the sweat on her cheeks, certainly did. He let her breast fall heavily from his mouth and leaned closer.

“P-please,” she stammered, and, now that he was still, he realized that she was shaking from head to toe. “It’s too much.”

The whining note in her voice, the absolute pleading with him to let her go, sent a chill through every nerve in his body. Gods, what was he doing to her?

Another pain, more acute than the dull throb of losing his son, coursed through his veins. She was in pain. Belle was shaking and crying and begging him to stop touching her. Gods, he hadn’t even stopped to ask if she was ready. This wasn’t just pain – he was raping her.

Ice water cinched his spine in place, but he yanked himself out of her all the same. He felt like he might die when she pressed down on her swollen red lips and massaged – he’d hurt her. He’d taken her “yes” and stretched it too far, not even thinking to ask her again when the pace changed. Three-hundred years… three-hundred miserable years, and he’d never raped anyone before. Even he had his limits. Even he refused to stoop so low. And of course he fucking went and ruined it by fucking his True Love so hard that she had to beg him to stop.

His head spun with nausea and disgust, and he wondered that his guts didn’t spill themselves on the floor like his bones did when he hit the ground on his knees.

“I’m so… I’m so sorry,” he hissed, scrabbling away from her on hands and feet like an uncoordinated crab. He hardly noticed when the chrome counter banged his head and cut into his scalp. “I… oh gods, please… I’m so sorry.”

Belle slid to the floor before him without anything to hold her up, her legs still spread deliciously, and heaven help him but the look of her lips spread wide and her sticky heat running down her thighs made his cock surge. All it took was a glance at the rabid mark on her neck, the same shape as his teeth, to cool him down again. 

“Rumple?” Her voice was tired, hoarse from all the screaming, but he could hear her worry for him all the same. Even exhausted from him fucking her into the ground, she still cared more about him. His mouth twisted further. “Rumple, what’s wrong? Why are you over there?”

His breath hitched on a sob. He’d hurt her, done terrible things to her, but still he wanted to be back in her body. The nightmares were seeping back in his head without her to distract him, the memories of every cruel, foolish thing he’d ever done, and now they were accompanied by thoughts of how he’d hurt her, too. He was going insane. And she still wanted him back. How could he hurt such a wonderful, miraculous woman? How could he hurt the only person who had a chance of saving him? 

He didn’t realize he’d buried his head in his hands, crying into his palms, until he felt Belle’s hand on his knee without seeing her. He jumped, but it was Belle who peeled his fingers from his hair. 

“Rumple,” she murmured, massaging his scalp with lazy touches as she leant towards him. He could still see the vivid red welt on her neck from this angle, and the tear tracks down her face. Her pretty blue eyes looked almost drugged. 

The crying didn’t stop – if anything, it only got worse. And what right had he to cry, when he was the one that had ruined everything, when he was the one that caused everyone’s pain? 

His shoulders shook.

“Belle, I-I’m so, so sorry,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to hurt you. Oh gods, I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened in confusion. “What are you talking about? You didn’t hurt me.” 

“Oh, right,” he laughed mirthlessly, finally realizing the cut on his head and digging it into the table. It was the very least he deserved. “I just raped you.” 

“Raped…? Rum, I don’t understand.” Her voice was little more than a yawn, and it was obvious that she wanted nothing more than sleep, but still she fought for him. She never stopped fighting for him. “You asked me, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. “Only once. I didn’t ask again after I started… fucking, you.” 

Her cheeks blushed red at his language, and even that shamed him. 

“Rum, I wasn’t unwilling,” she promised. He wanted to believe her, so desperately did he want to believe her, but he knew it would be folly to do so. “I wanted you. Did anything about me tell you to stop?”

It took all of his strength to keep from brushing back her hair, from soothing the frazzled strands that he’d ruined with his own hands. What sort of monster was he? 

“You did, Belle. You told me to stop.” He shivered at the memory, but went on. “You told me it was too much. That I was hurting you.” 

Her flush deepened. “That’s not quite what I meant,” she mumbled. “You… you made me cum too many times. It was too much.”

For a moment, he still sat there wallowing in his own tears. But hope was a cruel thing, and he couldn’t banish it even now. He should’ve learned better by now.

“I… I didn’t hurt you?” 

Belle shook her head, her pretty curls bouncing over her back. “No. You were wonderful. I love you, Rum, I won’t let you hurt me.”

This time, the sob didn’t catch – he released it, loudly, as he pulled her close into his lap. He hadn’t hurt her. He’d actually done something right. She was okay.

His arms enveloped her, drawing her ever closer as he nudged her cheek with his. 

“I love you,” he chanted, ignoring his tears in favor of kissing away hers. “I love you so much, Belle.” 

The smile she gave him could light up a room. If he let it, if he ignored his own insecurities and fears long enough, maybe he could let it light him, too. But then she her thigh brushed against his cock, still obscenely hard, and his thoughts spun out of control all over.

“I love you, too, Rum.” 

He strained against her, his head nudging itself towards her clit. She wriggled against him, her nose wrinkled in discomfort, and he immediately tried to pull himself out from under her, regardless of what his body thought it wanted.

“I’m sorry,” he panted. “I –”

Her lips cut him off. He kissed her back senselessly, unable to do anything else, and tried to ignore his still pulsing cock. Belle didn’t seem to have as many compunctions about it, though. 

“It’s fine, Rum. You’ve taken care of me. Let me take care of you.”

He wanted to argue. To tell her that he’d sort himself out so he wouldn’t hurt her. But she was already on her knees around him, her sweet little hand wrapped around his base, and then she lowered herself heavily into his lap. 

It only took one more push. One look into her bright eyes, so tender and warm. One whisper from her that she loved him, and that she’d be sure to let him know if he hurt her. 

He spurted thick and hot inside her, filling up her womb with his seed. His eyes rolled back, his head falling back against the wall in ecstasy. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t feel anything but pleasure, the compress of her cunt around him. But, miraculously, he remembered to trickle his magic into her to and stop himself from taking root. He’d already ruined the life of one child. He didn’t need to ruin another’s. 

Belle’s fingers traced up his cheek. 

“What happened?” Her compassion was too much, and his tears wouldn’t stop falling. “Rumple, what was this all about? What happened today?”

His head lolled deliriously at his side. She deserved an answer, of course she did, but he prayed for sleep to take him instead. As always, though, his prayers went unanswered.

The wetness in his eyes seemed to magnify everything. His Bae’s soft, downy head the first time he held him in his arms. His sweet face and utter joy when Rumple came home from work. His tiny arms winding around his papa to tell him he loved him. And his eyes when his papa killed the soldiers who wanted to abduct him. His visible fear when he turned peasant after peasant into snails. His smile when they made the only deal he ever broke. 

His small, sweaty hand slipping from his grip as he let it go. 

He heaved disgustingly into her body, curled against himself and the pain that utterly consumed him. 

“I lost him.”

From the way she cooed at him, the way her heart audibly dropped, he knew she understood. She always understood. His bright, brave girl.

She led him to her shoulder, let her arms wind comfortingly around him. He didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t have the strength to push her away again. Not when he’d already lost so much. “I lost him, Belle. I lost him…”


End file.
